


A Big Child

by TheBigLoserQueen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Language, M/M, Mentioned Abuse, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-19
Updated: 2012-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-27 21:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1723526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBigLoserQueen/pseuds/TheBigLoserQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prussia hates him, but yet, he can still pity for the cold nation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Big Child

He was truly like a child.  

That's all I could think about when I was first brought to his house. The war had ended. The Axis had lost and then my home country was split into two. I agreed to go with that forsaken communist devil while I left my brother in the hands of the democrats. My brother is strong, but I knew how to handle the Russian better than him. My brother could easily be broken under my new host. I'm tougher to break.

When I first entered his home, he was kind and friendly toward me. He tried to accommodate me, take care of my wounds even though he should've been working on more important things. It was irritating. The damn hospitality sickened me. I think he knew it too, but I don't really know.

Either way, the hospitality only lasted at most a month. Soon, he began to beat me, to torture me for endless hours and sometimes days. He'd beat me with that damn pipe of his, or sometimes his own feet and hands, mauling me and nearly breaking my body to pieces. He'd ordered me to beg for forgiveness, beg for him to stop. I laughed and merely took whatever he had to dish out. I think that's what made the beatings worse. I should've begged, but the hell my pride was going to let me. 

Honestly, I didn't mind the beatings. If that meant that my brother was safe, I would take every swing of his pipe, every blow of his fist, every hit of his foot. As long as my little brother was all right, I did not mind the torture I was put through. 

Yet, even though he beat me, every time he finished, he would grow very quite in cleaning up. Sure, every now and then he would mock me, but for the most part, all he would do was ask me why everyone hated his country, hated him. He knew his place was freezing and he said he hated it too. All he wanted was love and sunshine. Why wouldn't anyone let him have it?

He's a just big baby in a man's body. He wanted certain things and when he couldn't get them, he'd throw a tantrum, only to cry afterward. It was annoying, but I couldn't help but to feel pity for the bastard. It was his own fault no one liked him – he was so damn scary and unpredictably moody. 

There would be days he was nice to me and would tell me he loved me. Other days he would beat my senseless and would tell me that I was a possession, his possession. I'd laugh at him either way because I hated him

I truly abhorred him. He tortured me and kept me away from my family. He hurt and killed so many of my people. He even tried to kill my own brother. The hell I was going to simply give into him. The very thought of him made me ill.

Yet, even though that was true, I'm always thinking of him and I don't know how to stop.


End file.
